Words Unspoken
by like a falling star
Summary: Eriol and Tomoyo share a special sort of relationship.


Author's Note: This is an abstract thing I came up with not too long ago. I really enjoy the idea of it but I'm not sure if I'm spoiling it by presenting it as such. It's such a beautiful concept, I'd like to work on it a bit more when I have the time. 

It's exactly a week to my O' level exams, but I couldn't resist the temptation of writing. I predict that sometime during late November, however, and in December, I'll be writing a lot more, as my exams will be over by then, so that's when most of the updates will be. :) 

Words Unspoken

By like a falling star

They'd never spoken the words before, neither of them. 

It had always been this way between them, this silent communication, this understanding without words.

And it suited them just fine.

*

She turned around, not because she felt the light tap on her shoulders, but because she felt his eyes on her. 

Can I borrow a pencil, Tomoyo? (//Are you all right? You seem a bit down today.)

Hai. Would you prefer a mechanical pencil or a sharpened one? (//Of course I am, Eriol, why would I not be all right?)

A sharpened one would be fine, thank you. (//You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.)

Eriol-- (turning around again) Let's have sashimi for lunch, shall we? (//Then we can talk.)

*

A single white rose on her birthday meant 'Can I see you today after school?', but to Tomoyo it had never been a question, not really; her answers never varied, and a soft blush as he gently tucked the flower behind a shell-curved ear was her assent, after which no more was said on the subject (not that anything had been said in the first place).

*

One particular Valentines Day morning, she awoke to a pale grey sky, and the first thought that came to her mind as she drew apart the lavender curtains to meet the chilly breeze was Eriol. He had done it, of course, though why it should be '_of course_' and not '_maybe, did he, perhaps?_' she didn't know; he'd never done anything of the sort before, not as a gift. (Eriol never gave presents, he bestowed gifts; it was an entirely different thing altogether.) And yet it seemed like such a typically Hiiragizawa, such a typically _Eriol_ thing to do, to manipulate nature (though he insisted that the right word to use was 'enhance'; manipulate was such a _hateful _word, and Tomoyo's lips curved into a smile at the irony in his words) to make someone happy. 

The beautiful weather had indeed made her happy, and as she walked along the path to school humming an old Japanese lullaby (Mother _knew_; grey, misty mornings meant a proclamation of 'perfect weather!', and that meant that Tomoyo would _not_ take the limo, for love or death) she pondered over the fact that many girls would probably be sorely unhappy with the same weather that had made her day. 

*

He'd always been the eloquent one, the one who spun yards of pretty poetry over the course of every spring, never once writing it down because it's _all in there_ (tapping his head with his forefinger, a gesture that had never yet failed to irk Syaoran), yet, he realized, there were some things that language alone could not express. 

It was in the way he loved the music that rolled fluidly off the old piano as his fingers glided over ivory and black keys, but never more so than when her lilting voice – sweet and pure yet not quite innocent somehow – wrapped around the notes and took them soaring higher and higher till they rose above the night-tipped clouds and twinkled among the stars. 

It was the _purple_ in her gaze (there was just no other way to describe it, he thought) that breathed of royalty and beauty and mystery and magic (though not the sort he practised), the violet in her aura that whispered of elegance and smiles which were sad but genuine and a stone-cold heart with a core cottoned in warmth. 

It was the poetry within their gazes that spoke volumes. 

*

Both knew that it'd always been the eyes that drew them in. Not the windows to the soul, but the soul itself.

*

And there they were, the blooming girl with the soulful eyes and the century-old sorcerer, who was really just a teenaged boy with more powers than he knew what to do with, having sashimi for lunch on the rooftop of a building in their school.

She blew him a kiss. (//That's a beautiful grey sky outside.)

He drew her to him and pressed his lips to her forehead. (//I love you, too.)

*


End file.
